


Lady Ramkin's Lover

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Discworld - Pratchett
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-14
Updated: 2003-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-05 18:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sybil/Carrot. Based loosely upon Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H. Lawrence, which I was reading at the same time as we were performing Men at Arms (August 2003), so that's where the whole thing came from; I was playing Sybil and the man I had a crush on (who is now my husband) was playing Carrot. I was getting out of a hideously bad relationship at the time and so this fic reflects that to an extent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Discworld characters belong to Sir Terry Pratchett.

Sam wasn't coming home tonight. Sybil sat in the front room and watched the street outside for a while, until the ticking of the clock drove her from the room. Pacing along the long, empty halls, she imagined that the sound was following her, and she at last went into the front hall, put on her coat, and stepped out into the night.

The moon was full, seeming to drift between the clouds, although the chill wind blowing along the street reminded Sybil that the clouds were really the ones moving, not the moon. She automatically wrapped her coat closer around herself, despite the fact that it was so thick the cold barely got a look-in. She still wore one of her nicer dresses under the coat; she'd been entertaining some of the other nobles, pretending to laugh at their jokes while keeping one eye on the door, which never opened.

Presently a second set of footsteps joined hers, a methodical, measured pace when compared to her own rather uncertain shuffle. Perhaps it was Sam, out on his rounds. Sybil slowed, looking around, hoping to see her husband.

Captain Carrot came around the corner. He was in uniform, but his demeanour suggested that he had just come off-duty; his head hung somewhat, his usual brightness replaced with a certain weariness that was not the result of lack of sleep.

'Evening, Lady Ramkin. Are you looking for Commander Vimes?' He stopped in front of her, looking for a moment as if he was going to salute, but stopping his hand before it could rise any higher than his waist.

'Good evening, Captain. No, I wasn't really looking for him -- have you seen him?'

'Not for a while, m'lady. He was at the Watch House when I went off-duty an hour ago. I decided to do one last round -- there's been a bit of trouble between the dwarfs and the trolls again, you see, and the Commander seems to think I've a way with them.' He looked faintly embarrassed, and Sybil smiled, picturing him quelling a horde of angry trolls with a few well-chosen words. Sam had told her stories about Carrot's bravery, bravery that was all the more impressive because he didn't know he was doing it.

'Shouldn't you be going home instead of traipsing the streets all night?' she asked, trying not to sound too meaningful.

'Ah... it's Angua's time of the month.' The flush on his cheeks grew. 'There's not much reason for me to hurry home.' As if on cue, a wolf's howl echoed from the other side of the city. The sound was echoed by the furious yapping of a small dog. 'You see...' Carrot sighed a little wistfully.

'Don't you get lonely?' Sybil asked.

'She's home most nights, even... at those times. She just likes to get out sometimes.' Carrot smiled and ran his fingers through his hair selfconsciously. 'It's not bad the rest of the time.'

Sybil looked back along the dark street, stretching into the night. Her house was back there somewhere, with one light on in the front room, waiting for her; she could have a late supper and go to bed. She supposed that if she felt like going in to the dragons they would welcome her, although all the little buggers ever wanted was food -- they weren't the most cuddly of creatures.

'I should be getting back,' she said.

Carrot gave her an enquiring look. 'What have you got to get back to?' He saw the look on her face and held up a hand hastily. 'No, no! I didn't mean it like that. I just... the Commander...' His words trailed off, and he moved into step with her as she started back towards her house. 'After all, you must be lonely too,' he said as if the notion had just occurred to him.

'I last sat down and ate a meal with Sam a week ago,' Sybil said, her voice curiously flat. She looked up at the moon, attempting to prevent the tears in her eyes from escaping. 'I haven't seen him since this morning, and that was when he was dashing out of the door on his way to work, or something. He did mention something about an appointment with Havelock, but I don't recall the context. Then Emma came to tell me that Bosie -- one of the dragons -- had just exploded.' She looked back at Carrot, her composure restored. 'But as you say, it's not bad the rest of the time.'

'That's true, but... my lady, do you _have_ a "rest of the time"?'

She looked away again, but Carrot saw the tears trembling at the corner of her eyes -- Lady Sybil! stalwart defender of dragons, crying! -- twin clear globes that spilled over and left shining trails, which she wiped away when she thought he wasn't watching.

'Not really,' she said.

'Don't you find it hard?'

'I hardly miss what I hardly have, Captain.' Her eyes were dry now as she looked at him, and her expression was almost amused. _It's funny because it's true_, Carrot thought, and had to bite back a laugh.

They had reached her gate now; she stood with her hand on the latch and watched him fidget. Both of them cast occasional glances up at the moon, making its way serenely across the sky with its bridal train of clouds, unaware of the havoc it wrought once a month.

'Do you want some company?' Carrot offered.

Sybil opened the gate. 'I'm sure I won't have to rouse Willikins just to make tea for two. Do come in, Captain.'

They went through the gate; as it clicked shut behind them the wolf howled again, mournful and alone in the night.

* * *

They sat in the kitchen. The dining room was too dark and austere for tea and biscuits, and there was a little wooden table in the corner where Sybil had often eaten meals alone, dashing in from the dragons for a bite of food while Willikins fussed at her for not making a bigger effort to Do Things Properly.

Between the two of them, they managed to find things to talk about; Carrot listened to Sybil's tales of the last dragon mating season (which brought a faint blush to his cheeks more than once), and Sybil bit her lip over Carrot's stories of the Watch. Occasionally one of them got up and put another log on the fire. Douglas von Kingsley-Wade, who was a rather elderly example of Sybil's little obsession, snoozed on a corner of the hearth. It was all very warm and cosy, and they could almost forget the cold world outside.

Presently Sybil realised that the teapot was empty, and that the sky outside was gradually lightening to pink.

'Sun's coming up,' she said. 'You should go home to your young lady.'

Carrot rose, and they walked together to the door. 'Yes, Angua should be home soon. Commander Vimes too, I expect.'

They stood at the door for a moment, looking - no, gazing -- at one another. For that moment, one tense moment, their loneliness was shared, their burden split and fallen from their shoulders for it.

Sybil felt Carrot's hand warm on hers as he lifted it from her side, noting with a slight frown the burn mark across the base of her thumb before he lowered his head and pressed his lips to her hand. She felt the brush of them over the sore skin, and the tender gesture sent a shiver through her.

'You should wear gloves, my Lady.'

'I do,' Sybil managed. 'It was loose, and slipped off.'

She made the mistake of looking directly in his eyes.

And then his arms were around her, his mouth was on hers, and all thought melted away, unable to defend itself against the wave of pleasure. They clung to each other almost desperately; she could feel him shaking, although why, she didn't know.

Eventually they parted, both reluctant, neither yet feeling guilt but knowing that it was to come.

'Good night, my Lady,' Carrot said.

'Good night, my Captain,' Sybil responded.

He went down the walk and disappeared onto Scoone Avenue; Sybil watched him go, watched him as the golden light of early dawn engulfed him, and then turned back inside, her head beginning to fill with thoughts of dragons, driving out the persistent thoughts of what had just occurred.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the potential effect of what had happened between Carrot and Sybil on the rest of their lives, life went on much as it had been, to their mutual, if vague, surprise. The memory of Carrot's kiss did not leave Sybil, but she did not allow it to intrude upon her everyday duties. Only once or twice did she allow herself to remember it properly, and a blush inevitably rose to her cheeks when she did; the sensations seemed to come back as if it were happening all over again.

The exception to the sameness rule was that Sam began spending more nights at home with her. Though he wasn't overtly guilty, Sybil detected a certain something about his demeanour that suggested someone -- quite probably Carrot -- had Had Words with him regarding his relationship with his wife. The idea that Carrot would intercede on her behalf was flattering, if a little puzzling.

But the gods, or Fate, or whoever it was who kept themselves amused with such things*, intended that the way of things should change. And so it came about that, two months to the day after their last meeting, Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson and Lady Sybil Ramkin found themselves meeting once again, under almost exactly the same circumstances.

This time, at least, Sybil knew where Sam was. Almost to a man, the more experienced Watch members had agreed that there were some things about policing that it was best Samuel Vimes teach to the new recruits. Right now he would be proceeding along some back street, two or three people close behind him, and Angua probably up ahead, keeping a nose out for trouble. Angua was with him -- Carrot mentioned it almost in passing, as he was telling Sybil that Sam wouldn't be back that night.

'I tried to make them change it,' he said, his face radiating a kind of disappointment in his fellow officers. 'I tried to get them to at least give you a night's notice. But they said to strike while the iron was hot, and then the Commander said he'd speak to you about it in the morning and that you probably weren't sitting up waiting for him anyway. Then Angua started barking and he went off like a shot after her, and a few people followed him, to see how to do... whatever it was he was going to do.'

Sybil nodded absently, her eyes fixed on the lights of the city all around them. Lights meant people, she thought, and people meant families, and children, and love. It wasn't that she didn't love Sam -- why else would she have made such a serious commitment to him? -- but that time, or Fate, or some kind of fundamental universal injustice had come between them, preventing them from enjoying their relationship as well as they might.

The light had gone dim between them, and she didn't know how to stoke that fire, to make the flames bright again.

It had never occurred to her to mention anything to Sam about what had happened between her and Carrot. Somehow it had slipped beneath the surface enough that it didn't seem _worth_ mentioning.

Carrot, on the other hand, had been agonising over whether to tell Angua or not several times over the past two months. The trouble with the notion of confessing, however, was that the situation never seemed _right_. When his girlfriend could potentially turn into a wolf and tear out his jugular if he erred - although he was correct in his assumption that she wouldn't - the situation _never_ seemed right. So, as for Sybil, the whole thing had faded away.

And really, it wasn't that dramatic when they thought about it, was it? A kiss... a moment of comfort between two people who had found each other long enough to offer what they could. The implications of their actions hadn't even asserted themselves until a week after the kiss, so little did it initially seem to mean.

But meaning... meaning had begun to resonate from that simple action. And like a stone dropped in a pool of water, it had created ripples.

(Had it been dropped in the Ankh, of course, all it would have created was a kind of _thunk_, and possibly rebounded into the dropper's face. But that's Discworldian analogies for you.)

Sybil and Carrot had met in Sator Square this particular night. Sybil had been out wandering, unconsciously -- or so she was telling herself, rather firmly -- retracing the path her wedding party had taken when it had left the Great Hall of Unseen University. Being Ankh-Morpork, it had been a rather convoluted path, and she was having trouble remembering the next bit, so it was quite a relief when a patch of shadow moved, and resolved itself into being, and was Carrot.

'Good evening, m'Lady,' he said.

'I hardly saw you there,' Sybil said, a little startled.

'Been practicing that,' Carrot said, smiling. 'I thought if the Assassins could use the shadows, then so could I. It works rather well.'

'Does it?'

'Yes, I caught two Assassins who were trying to use the shadow I wanted. Don't worry, ma'am,' he added, 'they were only training. I should think they need to train harder.'

Sybil couldn't help laughing. Carrot watched her, an amused look on his face, until she sighed and looked at him.

'Do you want to come and keep me company again? I shan't sleep tonight, the little ones are restless... I don't think they like the full moon much.' She looked up at the sky: there were no clouds, and the stars were barely visible, the moon was so bright.

'I would be honoured, my Lady,' Carrot said quietly.

He took her arm as they walked towards Scoone Avenue.

* * *

This time, the tea and biscuits was the merest formality. Both of them felt the tension, the waiting, the anticipation.

Sybil got up to put another log on the fire, and Carrot caught her wrist gently, drew her towards him as he rose to his feet. He was about a head taller than her, and she tilted her head back, feeling his breath on her lips a second before their mouths met. She tasted tea, sugar, and that pure indefinable something that she knew was just _Carrot_, just him. Automatically she put her arms around his neck, holding him to her, and felt his hands slip around her waist.

To do her credit, Sybil's first thought was a guilty one: _What about Sam? What about Angua? _However, she was instantly condemned by her second thought: _That's all right. They're out of the way until morning._

It wasn't quite what she had meant by her first thought, but as she lost herself in sensation -- Carrot's lips on hers, his hands stroking her back softly -- it really didn't seem to matter. It was only a kiss, after all.

Then another.

Then another.

The crushing loneliness that had weighed her down for months - far worse than before her marriage, when she at least hadn't known what she was missing -- seemed alleviated by his embrace. She clung to him, kissed him harder, and felt his hands caressing her, gentle, comforting, in stark contrast to the way his lips and tongue moved with hers in such perfect abandon.

'We shouldn't do this,' she reasoned at last, when they managed to pause for a moment.

'I know,' Carrot said, almost helplessly.

'But... can't we be here for one another when they're not here to support us?'

Carrot made no immediate reply; warring emotions played across his features, and for one moment he looked utterly miserable. But the expression disappeared, and slowly, as if giving way to the whim of a god whom he had been battling, he bent his head and kissed her again.

'If you offer me affection, I am willing to take it... but only if you are certain that you are willing to give it,' he said, lips brushing against hers.

'As sure as I can be,' Sybil said.

And this time it was she who initiated the kiss, pulling him that last breath closer. They seemed to fit together perfectly; their lips pressed hotly together, his hands on her lower back, drawing her up against him, her arms around his neck, bending him to her will. It was a strange sight, had there been anyone there to see it: the Lady and the Captain, clearly not meant to be sharing such affection. But in an entirely different way, they clearly _were_ meant to be.

Sybil remembered, in the midst of all this, the time when they had thought Angua was dead, shot with the gonne. She remembered her hand on Carrot's arm as she had offered her condolences: the first time they had ever made contact, if she remembered rightly.

_Captain... I was very sorry to hear about Angua._

_Thank you, my Lady. I... thank you._

She had watched him walk away and thought: _There goes a fine young man. It's a shame about Angua. But he'll make someone a fine love one day, no doubt._

She hadn't thought it might be herself, in any way.

That light touch on his arm. Such a far cry from this.

Sybil broke away from Carrot, who looked at her quizzically; she laid a hand lightly on his arm and drew him out of the kitchen, towards the hall and the stairs, the stairs that led to her bedroom.

[ **** ](chatterley03.htm)

* * *

*Me, actually. But then, all writers are gods. Some of them are just better at it than others.


	3. Chapter 3

Sybil's boudoir had changed only subtly when Samuel had begun sharing it with her. A few of her things on the dressing-table had made way for his razor and half a packet of cigars; both pillows had head-shaped indentations in them; and there was a slight singed smell to the air, with a small hole in one of the closed curtains indicating its origin (accidental, of course).

Neither Sybil nor Carrot were thinking about any of this, of course; their attention was focused on one another and solely one another.

The bedsprings here did not go _glink_. They were too well-bred for that.

As Sam Vimes had discovered, Sybil Ramkin was a woman who could take one into her heart and hold him there for eternity. This went beyond that. This proved that, whatever love Sybil had for one person, if could grow beyond those boundaries, and she could take others into her heart.

Carrot, of course, was the same in a way; everyone knew Carrot.

Sybil was certainly about to.*

'Just a mo',' Carrot said, disentangling himself from Sybil's arms; she looked at him anxiously as he got up and went to the window. 'Er -- you don't mind, do you?'

He opened the curtains, and the pure, silver light of the full moon flooded the room. He hesitated a moment at the window, looking out over the city.

'I understand,' Sybil said quietly when he came back to the bed.

They just held each other for a long moment. If either of them had second thoughts about the situation, this was the time to express them; however, such thoughts echoed, unheard, like the cry of a forlorn voice in an empty hallway of some old Ankhian mansion.

Carrot's lips grazed the side of her neck; Sybil shivered at his touch. The outside world had receded -- all that was left was the two of them, nestled together, their clothing falling away like petals from flowers, but leaving bare skin no less perfect than the delicate bloom of a rose.

'You're beautiful,' Carrot said in an almost wondering tone, fingertips trailing their way along her side from breast to hip and back again. 'I didn't know...' His blush was almost pretty when it spread over his cheeks, silent realisation of what he had just said.

Sybil stilled his faltering words with a kiss. 'It's alright,' she whispered. 'It's alright.'

Neither of them were overly clumsy, despite their mutual lack of very much experience. They moved together in a dance of fingers and lips and their whole bodies gradually joined in the dance; when at last Carrot filled her, Sybil, for want of a better clich felt complete. They clung to each other and moved slowly, Sybil letting out occasional cries as sensation threatened to overwhelm her.

'Let it happen,' Carrot said, his lips brushing her ear.

His voice alone almost broke her; coupled with the physical sensations, it pushed her over the edge. She held him close and sighed his name, sounding as if she had been crying out for him all her life. He buried his face against the smooth skin of her shoulder and moaned as his own release came.

They lay still, locked in a close embrace, for a long time. She noticed him trembling, but didn't ask him why.

'You bear a powerful sword,' she said at last, and felt him shake with laughter.

'That's awful.'

'I know,' Sybil admitted. 'I rather thought it would be.'

Carrot rolled off her and snuggled by her side. 'Then you have a welcoming scabbard, m'Lady.'

'That's awful.'

'I know.'

'Good night, my Captain.' Her voice was already slurred with the hazy inflections of approaching sleep. He pulled her into his arms, feeling her warm against him; it made him happy, in a way, even if she wasn't Angua.

'Good night, my Lady. Sweet dreams,' he added.

They slept.

* * *

Sybil woke to the bright light of dawn trickling through the window, in the way light on the Disc invariably moved: sluggish, as if it were just as much of a trial for the light to be up as for people to get out of bed.

She thought: _I did, didn't I?_

Carrot was still asleep, sprawled on his stomach; at some point in the night they had moved apart slightly, but his arm was still hooked around her waist. She smiled, and kissed his cheek. He didn't move. She shook him gently and he awoke, blinking sleep from his eyes, an expression of apparent confusion blinking across his face for a moment.

'Good morning, m'Lady.' His voice was a little rustier than usual. 'Sleep well?'

'I did.' There was no need to mention that any worries she had had about Sam -- as she usually did when he was out all night -- had been banished by the feel of Carrot's arms around her, his hands on her body. 'Did you?'

'I dreamed about you,' Carrot said.

'Really? What about?'

He didn't respond verbally, but instead shuffled closer and kissed her, his hand trailing along her thigh, leaving patterns of fire wherever it touched, or so it felt. It was like one of the dragons breathing on her, but nicer... much nicer.

'Sam will be home soon,' she murmured. Sleep was threatening to steal her mind away once more... she'd been having such a lovely dream, too...

'I'll go.' He kissed her again. 'Soon.' And again. His hand moved upwards, cupping her breast, and she gasped. 'Soon.' She could see the needy expression in his eyes and recognised it for what it was, although she had rarely seen it before. 'Soon...'

'Not too soon,' Sybil said.

* * *

Willikins rapped on the bedroom door. 'Are you awake, ma'am?'

'Yes!' Sybil responded. 'I'll come downstairs shortly.'

'Did you want your breakfast on a tray?'

'No!'

Willikins raised an eyebrow, although of course Lady Sybil couldn't see it (perhaps fortunately so), and trudged back down the stairs. Perhaps... er... Sir Samuel had come home early. Yes. That was probably it.

He resolved not to think about it.

* * *

Sybil, after checking the immediate vicinity to make certain it was free of Willikins and the Interchangeable Emmas, escorted Carrot downstairs.

'Thank you,' she said at the door. Carrot inclined his head, looked at her quizzically. 'For keeping me company. For everything.'

'You're welcome. And thank you too,' said Carrot.

They both looked up at the sky. It was cloudless; the sun was well up by now. The moon, occasionally visible even during the day when it was at its fullest (posing some interesting problems for certain members of the undead community), was nowhere to be seen.

'I must get to the dragons,' Sybil said.

'I should be going,' Carrot said at the same moment.

Their laughter seemed forced. Sybil unthinkingly moved to kiss him goodbye, the way she did Sam every time he went somewhere, but Carrot stopped her, one hand on her shoulder.

'People might see us,' he explained.

It was true, and Sybil felt the blood go to her cheeks. Of course people might see them; set back as the house was from the avenue, the front garden was still very open, and there were people walking by. Sybil went even redder when she realised that one of them was Sam. Carrot's hand dropped from her shoulder; quickly enough?

'Hello, dear,' she said, trying to sound normal as he joined them at the front door.

'I'm sorry I'm so late,' Sam said, barely glancing at Carrot. 'Hello, Carrot. You'd better get off to the Watch House; new recruits were expecting you at nine and it's already--' he flipped open his watch and looked at it '--ten past.'

'Is it?' Carrot asked. Sybil was amazed at his calm air. 'I was just hoping to catch you here, Lady Ramkin said you were still out. I wanted to ask you something before I went to them.'

'Yes?' Sam sounded tired and impatient and Sybil wanted to take him inside and tend to him, wanted to push him away and tell him to cheer up, wanted both of them to disappear so that she could compose herself. Her cheeks still felt terribly hot. And she was certain that Carrot, despite his glib manner, wouldn't have any real questions for Sam, anything that would warrant his hunting Sam out at this time of day.

But Carrot said, 'Detritus wants to instate a kind of award.'

'What for?'

'Best Inter-racial Patrol.' He paused. 'He wants it to be in honour of Lance-Constable Cuddy.'

_Oh, well done! _Sybil cried in her thoughts, seeing Sam manage a smile. _Well done, my brave Captain!_

'Well,' Sam said. 'I suppose we could manage that, with the new recruits... how often would this award be presented?'

'Oh, we thought monthly, sir. Perhaps every two months, if that's too much...'

Sybil smiled in an_ I'll-leave-you-two-to-Watch-business _way, nodded goodbye to Carrot -- who saluted her as if nothing had happened -- and made her escape to the dragons, where blessed routine took over and she didn't have to make herself act normally.

The whole day, her head was filled with dangerous thoughts. Somehow she managed to keep her wits about her and not respond to sensible questions with inane babble. But those thoughts danced in her mind: Carrot's kisses, the passion they had shared, all of it, all that she had had and all, she feared, that she wanted again.

[](chatterley04.htm)

* * *

*Shoot me, please; it's a terrible line and I know it's a terrible line but I can't make it go away.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a sense of unreality to Sybil's life: she knew that she was being a terrible wife, even if she was still trying to be a good person, and her mind was pleading with her to stop all this nonsense before it was too late, but her heart -- ah, her heart was crying out _Carrot, Carrot, Carrot_.

Sam suspected nothing. It seemed as if nothing had happened as far as he was concerned. And of course he didn't know: there was no reason for him to. They'd been discreet: she had changed the sheets. She tried to tell herself that it wouldn't happen again anyway, but something in the back of her mind whispered that it would. It was the way he held her, the way he kissed her; she felt herself being drawn helplessly deeper in. Carrot made her feel as if she was worth attention -- something that, sadly, Sam had trouble expressing.

And always there was a sense of waiting.

Two full moons passed without anything happening. Sybil heard a few words about changes in roster, Carrot and Angua patrolling together, tried not to think about the two of them together in any context. Havelock invited her to afternoon tea once or twice: his keen eyes seemed to bore into her heart, trying to see what she was hiding, but Sybil knew how to keep secrets from him.

It was almost a relief when the waiting ended. Sybil tried very hard not to think about what they were doing as an affair; she tried not to think of how much it would hurt Sam, or for that matter how much Angua would probably hurt her. Instead, she focused on what was happening.

One night, some idiot had made an assassination attempt on the Patrician. They obviously weren't a member of the Assassins' Guild, or they'd've known it really wasn't worth it. Sam had dashed down to the Palace to find out what was going on. When Sybil had gone down to the Watch House to ask where he was, Carrot had been the only person immediately visible.

'They left me here to keep an eye on things,' he said by way of explanation. 'The Commander thought that Detritus would be intimidating enough to keep any further troublemakers well away, and Angua's down there as well.'

'People shall be lining up to be arrested,' Sybil said.

Carrot coughed and went red. 'Well. Yes,' he said. 'I suppose so.'

They stared at each other for a long moment; the silence was so perfect that they could practically hear the steam rising off Carrot's cup of tea.

Sybil was the one who broke the stillness.

'Is anyone else here?' she whispered.

'Nobby, I think, but...'

'Tell him you're going upstairs for a rest.'

'M'lady...'

'Captain.' Her eyes were steady and serious, but with something burning behind them; she kissed him once, lightly, then disappeared up the stairs. Carrot hesitated, caught between desire and an agonising sense of duty, then called out for Nobby, who appeared carrying the biscuit tin.

'Sir?'

'I've got a headache. I'm going upstairs for a rest.' He avoided meeting Nobby's eyes -- to think that Nobby Nobbs could look more honest than Carrot Ironfoundersson! unthinkable! -- and nodded at the front desk. 'Keep an eye on things, would you? The others should be back soon.'

'Yessir!' Nobby saluted, chest swelling with importance, then had to dive after the biscuits as they flew everywhere. Carrot sighed, amused, and went up the stairs.

Sybil was waiting uncertainly at the top, and Carrot was struck by the sense that she felt out of place. For all her perfect poise and assurance in her own territory, here she seemed uncomfortable, and he immediately resolved to make her feel welcome. He could hear Nobby scrabbling around downstairs and grinned in the half-light before reaching out and pulling Sybil into his arms. They kissed, at first almost chastely, then pushing for more, their passion increasing.

Had this been a bad Holy Wood film there would be sparks flying and a lot of intercuts of phallic imagery (provided the imps didn't throw up), but as it wasn't, it was simply Carrot's turn to lead Sybil into his bedroom.

Her voice faltered as she closed the door behind them: 'I've missed you.' She couldn't explain why, as he gazed at her and she slowly turned red, looking down at the floor. The very sight of him awoke something within her that made her ache for him, in a way totally different to the way she felt for Sam. Sam loved her, and she him, but... Sybil suddenly realised the difference: she loved Sam, but she had fallen in love with Carrot.

'I've missed you too, m'Lady,' Carrot said.

The space between them closed as if it had never been. Moments later, the space between them and the bed did the same thing, and the bedsprings went glink. Sybil stifled a giggle. Carrot buried his face in the pillow, what she could see of his cheeks burning red.

'I hope Nobby doesn't come up here,' he said, his voice muffled.

'I'm sure he won't,' Sybil said, reaching out and running the palm of her hand over his back. He was mostly in uniform, lacking only his armour; she supposed that he didn't need it for working on the desk. What was left was a red shirt and brown trousers, plus his boots, which he kicked off. He rolled over to look at her, eyes appraising her, speaking far more than his words ever could. As his lips pressed against hers Sybil had a sense, almost, of coming home.

A few short minutes later it didn't matter what either of them had been wearing, as it was strewn over the bed and floor.

'Sam will kill us if he finds out,' Sybil whispered.

Carrot laughed. 'But he won't find out,' he said with his usual confidence. 'How could he?'

'He might find out...' Sybil was interrupted by Carrot touching her, fingers skimming lightly along her thigh. 'Oh.'

'He might find out what, m'Lady?' Carrot paused, fingers a heartbeat away from her centre.

'That I've fallen in love with you,' Sybil said, eyes closing against certain disappointment.

There was a moment of silence, then Carrot's arms were tight around her, his lips brushing against her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, and at last her lips, which tingled as he whispered, 'Then he'll find out that I've fallen in love with you, my Lady Sybil.'

The words sealed their fate. They moved together almost desperately, rediscovering those feelings that had lain dormant, but not forgotten, for two long months. Carrot trapped Sybil's mouth under his, trying to stifle her cries, but passion overwhelmed both of them and they lost all control of their bodies and their voices.

Bare seconds later they parted, both glancing anxiously at the door, but the damage was done -- they could hear footsteps coming cautiously up the stairs.

Sybil said a word she'd only ever used in the context of walking into the dragon stables on a dung-cleaning day. It was surprising that she bothered to whisper.

'What do we do?' Carrot asked. His face had gone white.

'There's nothing we can do,' Sybil said calmly, picking up her skirt and turning it back the right side out. 'It's too late.' She sounded rather as one of her ancestors might have sounded waiting for the hangman's noose.

Nobby knocked at the door.

'Captain?' His voice was uncertain. 'Captain, what's going on?'

'Nothing?' Carrot tried.

'Did Angua come back early?'

'Yes!' Any port in a storm; any convenient lie in a potentially lethal situation.

'Funny,' Nobby said, and his voice was threaded with cunning, ''cos it didn't sound like her name you were saying, if you know what I mean. _Sir_.'

'Nobby?'

'Sir?'

'You might want to keep this to yourself.' Sybil had never heard Carrot sound menacing; the expression on his face didn't quite match it, as if even he found it difficult to believe. 'Otherwise life could be very nasty.'

'Already is, sir. Besides, you wouldn't do it.' Sybil wished she could see Nobby's face as he said it. 'You're Captain Carrot.'

'Yes, Nobby, but in light of recent revelations, you should ask yourself, who _is_ Captain Carrot?' Sybil chipped in. 'He's obviously not quite who you thought he was. If he'd do this, then you should ask yourself what else he'd do. Quite possibly involving one of my dragons and a certain person's... certain body parts.' She wasn't terribly good at threatening people either.

There was a long silence from the other side of the door.

'Post-coital cigarette, sir?' Nobby offered.

'Just go away, Corporal Nobbs.'

'Sir.'


	5. Chapter 5

Überwald. Who'd made _that_ decision? It certainly hadn't been Sybil, and it took very little investigating to find out that it hadn't been Sam either -- considering the way he'd complained about it so, anyone who thought it had been his idea was thinking with the wrong end of their body. Privately, Sybil suspected Havelock. There'd been that conversation they'd had....

'Your husband could do with some time away from the city,' Havelock had said.

'I suppose,' Sybil responded vaguely. The thought of how impossible it was had done more than cross her mind. After all, they hadn't even had a honeymoon. Although, after what she'd just confirmed with Mrs. Content, some things didn't need a honeymoon.

'You could do with a break from the dragons, I expect,' Havelock went on.

'Oh _no_,' Sybil had said, chuckling. 'They'd miss me so. And while the others have their hearts in the right place, a bad enough case of Flameless Gripe and they'd be running from that stable. No, Havelock -- it's not possible.' And she had promptly dismissed the whole notion from her mind.

But, apparently, it was.

Sybil had to concede that it was nice to be out of the city. Ankh-Morpork was her home town, and she was proud of the fact in a way, but it was perfectly acceptable for someone to become tired of home, as... _interesting_ as that home might be. The only trouble was that, as the coach bumped along and the murmur of Cheery and Detritus's voices from atop the coach drifted down to them (Sybil was privately rather worried about the troll's seating arrangement, but if Sam felt it was safe...), Sybil's mind had time to wander.

She was going to have a baby. She knew that much. Sam didn't, not yet... there would be a moment when she could tell him, and then _that_ part of the situation would be all right. The trouble was... she had to face it, the trouble was that she didn't know _whose_ baby she was going to have. Mrs. Content had told her how far along she was, and Sybil had counted back and done some thinking and come to the rather red-faced conclusion that either Sam or Carrot could be the father.

It was a sticky situation, to say the least.

The coach jolted on, over miles of featureless road. Sam looked ready to fall asleep. Sybil thought about telling him about the baby just to see if that would wake him up. It had certainly woken _her_ up. And what if it weren't his, but Carrot's? What would she do? What could she expect of Carrot? She didn't really have any right to demand anything of him; it was her transgression, really, not his. Besides, she had the feeling that if she went and told him what was going on, Angua would find out, and then Sybil would be in even more trouble than she was currently in.

Her thoughts spun in her head, much as the coach wheels spinning over the endless miles between Ankh-Morpork and Überwald. Sam snored in time with the way the coach bumped on the road. Eventually, Sybil leant against the cushioned back of the seat and dozed.

* * *

She had an odd dream: in it she was talking to Nobby Nobbs, who seemed to be trying to tell her something important. She was afraid that Sam would overhear them, but he was practicing sword-fighting with Carrot, and the wooden blades they were using rattled too loudly for anyone to hear.

'I'm very sorry, m'lady,' Nobby kept saying. His face was grave. 'I'm very sorry.'

'Sorry for what?' Sybil asked. 'Tell me!'

'I can't tell you,' Nobby said, and his expression changed; Sybil had never seen him look so sad. 'I can't tell you, but you can find out. Just don't tell him I told you so.'

'Tell who?' Sybil asked, but Nobby had disappeared.

The wooden swords clashed.

'Sybil,' Sam said. 'Sybil, what are you hiding?' The swords clashed. 'What aren't you telling me? What secret are you keeping?'

'I'm going to have a baby,' she heard herself reply.

'But what's your secret?' The swords clashed again. Carrot was having trouble keeping up; Sybil could hear him breathing heavily, almost the way that he breathed as he was falling asleep, and it seemed a mockery to hear it now. 'What's your secret, Sybil? What are you hiding? Why are you keeping things from me?' Sam swung the sword and it was suddenly, shockingly real, glinting metal swinging in an arc towards Carrot's defenceless throat.

'No!'

* * *

And then she woke up, and Sam was inches away, gazing into her face, concerned. His breath smelt of tobacco.

'Sybil, you screamed. Did you have a nightmare?'

'Yes,' Sybil said.

'What was it about?'

She looked into his face, rubbed the palm of her hand across the stubble on his cheek where he hadn't had a chance to shave. 'I dreamt that the coach overturned,' she said quietly. 'That's all.'

Sam sat back, but she could see that he was unconvinced.

* * *

'It's delightful to see you in person,' Serafine said, giving Sybil a toothy smile. 'Would you like a tour of the house?'

'Yes, why not?' Sybil said. She was already feeling uneasy. Serafine had that effect on her, but then, Serafine had that effect on a lot of people.

They walked along a long, empty hall. A line of portraits looked down at them. Even the human faces had an animal quality to them. Sybil avoided looking at them, and noted that Serafine was watching for her reaction.

She said: 'How have you been, Serafine?'

'Quite well. I judge you have been too.' She sniffed gently. 'Your last letter contained some interesting news. Does the Commander know that you're pregnant?'

'I didn't tell you that,' Sybil said.

'You didn't need to. I could smell it. I could see it in your writing. It was all over the place.' Serafine sniffed again, and a slow smile appeared on her face. 'Sybil, dear, what's your secret?'

'I don't have any secrets.' It took an effort to speak the words, and Serafine was already shaking her head.

'For one thing, you're keeping the fact that you're with child from your husband. That's a large secret, Sybil Ramkin... it makes me wonder what it might be hiding behind it. Something even more secret.' She stopped, coincidentally next to a portrait of Angua. 'Our children can become our pride and joy, Sybil, so why the silence? I should think that you would want to make this known as quickly as possible. You're the type to begin planning the nursery... to choose a name, even. After the father, perhaps?'

'Sam,' Sybil said firmly.

'Except... you're not certain who the father is.' Serafine's smile spread. 'That's what I can smell on you. Sybil... I'd never have expected it of you. Marriage is a very sacred vow, you know, and you've broken it.'

'I...'

'Who is he, Sybil? It's not the inestimable Patrician, is it?'

'_Havelock_?' The idea seemed incredible... but, Sybil supposed, hardly more incredible than the thought that she would do what she had done in the first place. 'No... not him.'

'Not Havelock. Who, then?'

Sybil realised she had given herself away. She should have said that it was nobody, that she was faithful, anything, anything...

'Serafine, don't.' The words came out with more venom than she had intended. 'Don't ask me about this.'

'What's your secret? Who is it?' The words were so like those from her dream that Sybil shuddered. 'I'm curious now as to what man could so turn Lady Sybil's head... he must be someone very special.'

She thought: he _is_. The way he cares about me even though we both know it's hopeless, that I'm so tied to Sam I'll never be free to be with him. The way he says good night to me and tells me I'm beautiful... the way he cries out my name... the way he lays that one little kiss on my lips just after we've made love, as if he's thanking me. Special... special isn't enough. Carrot's unique. Nobody's perfect, even I know that, but he comes very close.

But she refused to tell Serafine, and in the end Serafine gave up.

As they moved on down the hall, Sybil noticed that something was strange about Angua's portrait. For a second she couldn't understand what her eyes were telling her, and then she blinked, and the strange white blurs across the picture made sense. A claw had reached out and slashed that portrait in anger. Much as she was almost afraid of Angua -- potentially so, at least -- looking at that picture made Sybil glad that Angua had not chosen to accompany them.


	6. Chapter 6

'You've got to make a decision soon,' Sybil's friend Isabelle told her. They were sitting in Isabelle's kitchen drinking tea, which was not usually something Isabelle did, but upon learning of Sybil's situation she had announced that this was the sort of thing that needed tea.

Sybil was uncharacteristically silent, stirring a second sugar lump into her tea, watching the spoon rather than her friend.

Isabelle waited patiently. She had known Sybil for years, and knew that Sybil would make _a_ decision... however, in this case, neither of them was sure what was the correct decision, which path the correct one to take.

'I just don't know what to do,' Sybil murmured at last. She looked at Isabelle, who was shocked to see tears forming in Sybil's eyes. 'I'm a terrible person.'

'Ah, now, you're not a terrible person,' Isabelle said. 'You're just not a very good wife.'

'You're very direct, and I appreciate that,' Sybil said, half-smiling. 'I just wish you could make my decision for me.'

'You're the only one who can do that, and you know it,' Isabelle said, dropping her light tone. 'You got yourself into this and it's your own job to get yourself back out. Or deeper in. Or whatever.'

Sybil uttered an shaky laugh. 'I know,' she said. 'It's just so hard.' She shook her head. 'But I _do_ know what I've got to do. I've got to tell him it's over.'

'That's right,' Isabelle encouraged her. 'You know what to do.'

It wasn't until after Sybil had left, and Isabelle was putting their teacups back on their hooks, that she realised that Sybil had not specified which 'him' she was going to end things with.

* * *

Sybil and Sam had been together for a long time... at least, it felt that way. And of course they were more than just good friends, being married and all. Which hardly made things easier.

Sybil kept seeing Angua's face in her mind. She had talked to Angua when they were in erwald, despite her own internal fears, and found her to be a charming young woman, quite the opposite of her mother, who was, to put it bluntly, a bitch*. She had even, after some thought, told Angua about the baby, and Angua had just smiled and wished her all the best... not so much with the baby as with managing to tell _Sam_ about the baby.

And then she'd told him, and they'd had that nice time alone on the way home from Überwald, and she'd almost broken down and told him about Carrot then. But she couldn't do it. She just couldn't ruin the way he'd decided to turn around and be there for her, instead of running off to be with the Watch. She couldn't shatter his illusions.

Then there was Carrot. Against the odds, against all reason, he said he'd fallen in love with her, and she believed him. Could she shatter his illusions? Would it be any easier than breaking Sam's heart?

It hurt. It hurt so much that once Sybil even thought it might be easier if she didn't have to face it at all... but she couldn't take the coward's way out.

Isabelle kept encouraging her to speak up, as Sybil's baby grew inside her and she began to show. Havelock kept looking at her with an odd knowing gaze, direct and frightening. And Nobby avoided even speaking to her, which was strangely upsetting. Poor Nobby, being caught up in all this...

Then came the day when she found out just how much Nobby Nobbs knew.

* * *

'I can't stand this much longer,' Carrot said.

Sybil just blinked at him. They were lying in his bed at the Watch House. She could smell Angua's shampoo on the pillow. 'Can't stand what?'

'Not knowing where I stand.' His voice was gentle, but his eyes were serious. 'I don't know if your baby's mine, and I don't know whether you love me or...'

'I do love you!' Sybil realised she was being too loud and quieted her voice. 'I do love you,' she repeated, 'but I don't know what to do about Sam...'

'Do you love him?'

'I care about him... but I don't know any more.' _How can I? You're the one who pays attention to me, you're the one who's lying here beside me... you're the one who loves me and shows it._

Carrot pushed the sheets back and got up, the faint light of the half-moon playing across his body. Sybil tried not to stare, but a smile brushed her lips. He really was very attractive.

'My lady, I love you, and I want you,' he said. 'Beyond that I don't know what else to say. But at least you know where I stand.'

It was a strange role reversal from that which Sybil had known before. Not first-hand... she had rarely opened her heart, save in a few forlorn, anonymous letters to recipients who had never reciprocated in any way. But Isabelle had worn her heart on her sleeve all her life, and Sybil had watched her pour out her feelings to boys (and later, men) who simply laughed.

She couldn't do that to Carrot. She couldn't reject his overtures, from this honest, open expression of his feelings to the tiniest stolen kiss.

Sybil got up and dressed silently, occasionally glancing at Carrot as he buckled on his breastplate. He complained about it sometimes, saying it restricted his movement, but she always pointed out that it was better to be a little restricted than to be a lot dead with an arrow (or Dwarfish beer stein) between the ribs.

They made their way downstairs, passing Nobby at the front desk (he ostentatiously averted his eyes as they passed), and out into the night.

Only to see, of all the unlikely sights imaginable, Samuel Vimes standing outside the front of the Watch House.

Well. It wasn't so much Sam's presence that was unlikely. It was the fact that he wasn't alone. Very much not alone. Sybil heard Carrot gasp, heard herself gasp, and felt her brain scrabble to find an explanation as to why her husband was locked in an embrace with Angua, kissing her deeply, passionately, his hands around her slim waist, holding her close, and Angua just as clearly returning the kiss.

'_Angua!_' Carrot exclaimed.

'Oh...'

Angua broke Sam's embrace. 'Oh, no.'

Sam took a moment longer to realise who was standing there watching him. 'Sybil... I can explain.'

'I think we've all got a lot of explaining to do,' Sybil said, forcing her voice to come out firmly rather than quavering. 'And I think it had better be done right now, before anyone moves another step.'

When the four of them moved into the Watch House, Nobby took one look at them and dove under the desk.

'Nobby, did you say anything to Lady Ramkin?' Sam asked.

'No, sir,' came the almost inaudible reply.

'You mean he knew? He knew about you and...' Sybil refused to stoop to saying _that bitch_, considering that, at this stage, it would be the cauldron calling the potion octarine. 'Nobby!'

'Yes, m'lady,' Nobby muttered in an under-the-desk-and-staying-there sort of voice. 'But I didn't say anything about you either.'

Sam turned and looked at Sybil, comprehension dawning. 'That's why you're here, isn't it? You and Carrot...' His tone was more surprised than angry... at least for the moment.

'Yes, Sam,' Sybil said softly. 'As I said, we've got a lot of explaining to do.'

Colon came in at that moment and stopped short at the sight of all the people in the House. 'What's going on?' he demanded. 'Nobby, get out from there.' He bobbed his head at Sybil. 'Evenin', Lady Vimes...'

'Lady Ramkin will do nicely, thank you,' Sybil said. 'Sam, is there somewhere _private_ we can all talk?'

* * *

The holding cell was cramped, but they managed, Sybil sitting on the bunk at the insistence of the other three. Sam had ordered Colon to manage things for a while and Colon had almost dreamily begun the night's work, starting off with dragging Nobby out from underneath the desk.

'Where do we start?' Angua asked, breaking the silence. 'Carrot...'

'I'm sorry,' Carrot said mechanically, not even looking at her.

'I think we're all sorry,' Sybil said, folding her hands in her lap.

'How could...' Sam realised the foolishness of even trying to finish that sentence. 'I...'

'All four of us have done this for some reason. Whatever our reasons are, maybe it should be enough that it's happened and that... that we take steps to... make new arrangements,' Angua said. Her face was pale, with hectic patches of colour high on her cheekbones. Sam was holding her hand, Sybil noted.

'That depends. Do you mind not knowing why?' Carrot asked.

Angua laughed; the sound was shrill and unlike her. 'I don't really think I want to know, Carrot,' she said. 'I'm sure you don't want to know my reasons either.'

That uncomfortable silence fell like a pall across the room again. None of them spoke or moved for what seemed an age.

'I'll go to your house and get my things,' Sam said at last, speaking to Sybil without looking at her. She felt her heart break a little. _Is that all? Is that how it ends?_

'Where will you go?' she asked.

'I'll stay here,' he said, looking surprised that she didn't know. 'Where else?'

He left the three of them staring at each other.

'I really am sorry,' Sybil said to Angua, who was leaning against the wall, her blonde hair obscuring her face.

'So am I,' Angua said. 'But if this is what was meant to happen... we can't argue with the gods.'

She was crying, and Sybil instinctively went to her and put her arms around her. Angua stiffened against her, then nestled her face against Sybil's shoulder.

'It's for the best, really,' she said, her thick sobs breaking the words. 'For the best...'

Neither of them noticed when Carrot left them alone in the cell. They were too caught up in the strangeness of the situation, in thoughts of how this would change their lives, turning everything upside down all over again.

'I don't hate you,' Angua said at last, lifting her head from Sybil's shoulder to look her straight in the eye. 'I don't hate you, although I could.'

'I don't hate you either,' Sybil said. 'I don't think I could. I'm not sure that in this situation we can do that.'

'Oh, we could,' said Angua. 'But it's easier if we don't.' She pulled away from Sybil and set to trying to clean the drying tears from her cheeks.

And to that, Sybil had no response.

* * *

_Dear Isabelle,_

_Carrot and I will be coming home next week. The country air has done us both a lot of good, but I miss the dragons._

_I wanted to know whether things have settled down yet. Mainly, has Havelock stopped smiling like he did when I last saw him? And are people still talking? I'm sure they are... but I have to come home. The baby is due soon, after all._

_I think I made the right decision. It was hard to let go of something I'd become so used to, but it turns out that this was the right thing to do. I heard from Serafine, and she says that Angua and Sam think the same thing. I don't know where they are now... travelling together, I believe. I can hardly blame them for gravitating towards each other, given the circumstances._

_I miss you and all of Ankh-Morpork, and we will be home soon._

_Love,_

_Sybil._


End file.
